Authors: Tracie; Peterson
Brides of Alaska
A Light in the Window
© 1993 by Tracie J. Peterson
Destiny's Road
© 1994 by Tracie J. Peterson
Iditarod Dream
© 1994 by Tracie J. Peterson
Print ISBN 978-1-63409-214-2
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-63409-838-0
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-63409-839-7
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All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
Scripture taken from the H
OLY
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IBLE
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EW
I
NTERNATIONAL
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ERSION
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.
Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Published by Barbour Books, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, OH 44683,
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A Light in the
WINDOW
Dedication
To Pam and David, Cheri, and Ryan Thibault
.
To Joyce and Ray Mains
,
my personal Alaska connection
.
Thanks for your love and prayers over the years
.
I thank God upon my every remembrance of you
.
The 1925 diphtheria epidemic in Nome, Alaska, would have taken more lives and spread farther had it not been for the heroic hearts of the men who shared the serum run. Their names are listed here in honor of their sacrifice and spirit.
“Wild Bill” ShannonâNenana to Tolovana (52 miles)
Dan GreenâTolovana to Manley Hot Springs (31 miles)
Johnny FolgerâManley Hot Springs to Fish Lake (28 miles)
Sam JosephâFish Lake to Tanana (26 miles)
Titus NikoliâTanana to Kallands (34 miles)
Dave CorningâKallands to Nine Mile mail cabin (24 miles)
Edgar KallandâNine Mile to Kokrines (30 miles)
Harry PitkaâKokrines to Ruby (30 miles)
Bill McCartyâRuby to Whiskey Creek (28 miles)
Edgar NollnerâWhiskey Creek to Galena (24 miles)
George NollnerâGalena to Bishop Mountain (18 miles)
Charlie EvansâBishop Mountain to Nulato (30 miles)
Tommy PatsyâNulato to Kaltag (36 miles)
JackscrewâKaltag to Old Woman shelter house (40 miles)
Victor AnagickâOld Woman to Unalakleet (34 miles)
Myles GonangnanâUnalakleet to Shaktolik (40 miles)
Henry Ivanoffâstarts from Shaktolik but meets Seppala
Leonhard SeppalaâShaktolik to Golovin (91 miles)
Charlie OlsonâGolovin to Bluff (25 miles)
Gunnar KaasenâBluff to Nome (53 miles)
And, of course, the dogs!
My special thanks to the Anchorage Museum of History and Art; Anchorage Municipal Libraries; the University of Alaska, Fairbanks; and my husband, Jim, for their assistance with the historical research surrounding this event.
J
ulie Eriksson hastily donned her fur-trimmed cloak and made her way to the viewing deck of the SS
Victoria
. She strained to see the hazy blue outline of land. Nome, Alaska! After five long years, she was finally coming home. For the rest of her life, she would celebrate the seventh of October.
Squinting against the brilliance of the sun as it hit the ice floes in the Nome roadstead, Julie thrilled at the crisp, cold wind on her face. Where other passengersâvisitors to her far northâshuddered at the zero-degree weather and went quickly below, Julie felt like casting off her cloak. This was her home, and never again would she leave it. She longed to soak it all up.
The deep blast of the steamer's whistle startled Julie. She remembered back to 1919, when she'd left Nome for Seattle in order to study nursing. Then, the ship's whistle had been a lonely reminder that Julie was leaving home. Now an experienced public health nurse, Julie was returning to her people to offer what skills she'd learned in order to better their lives.
Her only regret was that her mother, Agneta, had passed away while Julie was in school. Having been a sickly woman, Agneta was Julie's biggest reason for becoming a nurse. What little health care existed in Alaska was inadequate to deal with the ailments of Agneta Eriksson. Julie had always desired to bring her mother relief from her torturous bouts with asthma. Julie had learned all she could about the illness, but she hadn't returned in time to help.
Her mother's memory would live on in Julie's heart, but the empty place Agneta's death left would never be filled. With this thought in mind, Julie wondered if her father and brother would be meeting her. Their homestead was some twelve miles northeast of Nomeâa short, easy trip by dogsled.
She smiled as she thought of the dogs. It had been so long since she'd driven her own team. City people in Seattle had laughed at her talk of driving dogs, unable to imagine Julie handling the demand.
Of course, some of the rural students had known only too well the love of mushing dogs, and when several had invited Julie to join them at a local winter race, she'd readily accepted. Those simple kindnesses had helped ease her homesick heart that first year.
Glancing at her watch, Julie noted that it was ten minutes till twelve. They'd made excellent time, with perfect weather for their six-day journey from Seattle. During her bleakest moments in the States, it had been hard to believe that Nome was only six days away. Most of the time the distance had seemed an eternity, and had Julie not been resolved to become a nurse, she would have gladly taken the short trip home and forgotten the loneliness that haunted her in the state of Washington.
Julie felt the ship slow as the ice floes grew larger and threatened to halt the
Victoria
's progress. Nicknamed the Grand Old Lady, the SS
Victoria
was one of the only ships to brave the harbor of Nome this late in the year. Julie knew that even the
Victoria
wouldn't challenge the icy waters past the first of November. Insurance premiums would soar due to the risk of icebergs. In fact, after the
Victoria
pulled out of the harbor for Seattle, there wouldn't be another ship into Nome until April.
“All for Nome! All for Nome!” a man called out through a megaphone.
Julie moved toward the man. “Are we going to take the ferry across the roadstead?” she asked as the man moved past her.
“No ma'am,” the man said with a tip of his cap. “The ice is too thick. We're going to walk you across.”
Julie nodded. It wasn't unusual for Nome-bound ships to anchor in the ice-laden harbor while passengers walked ashore across the thick ice. Leaning against the icy railing, Julie smiled to herself. Another hour and she'd be on the sandy banks of Nome.
“Oh thank You, Father,” she whispered in prayer. “I'm so happy to be home and so happy to be doing Your work.” Julie glanced around to make certain no one was watching her before she continued. No sense in folks thinking she was daft.
“Dear God, make me an ambassador of Your love and goodwill. Let me help the people in this territory both with my nursing skills and my knowledge of You. And Lord, thank You so very much for allowing the years away to pass quickly and for the good friends You sent my wayâfriends who helped to ease my burden of loneliness and separation. Amen.”
The ship came to a full stop, resting gracefully against the solid platform of ice. Julie raced back to her cabin and gathered her things. It was going to be a glorious day!
The walk across the icy harbor made Julie glad she'd bought a sturdy pair of boots in Seattle before leaving for home. Of course, they weren't as warm as native wolfskin boots with moosehide bottoms, but they got her across the ice without any mishaps.
Some of the “cheechakos,” the Alaskan name for greenhorns, were trying to snowshoe or skate in city boots across the ice. If she hadn't worried about hurting their pride, Julie might have laughed out loud in amusement. The only other women on the trip were a pair of frail-looking things who insisted on being pushed across the ice in sled baskets.
Julie wondered about the handful of passengers. Always there were those who came to find their fortunes in gold, but they usually arrived in April or May and departed before the temperatures dropped below zero. There weren't many from the lower forty-eight who, upon hearing of days, even weeks, spent at fifty degrees below zero, would brave the Alaskan winter. Those hearty souls who did usually came for reasons other than acquiring gold.
Of course, some people were running from the law. Alaska provided a good place for criminals to escape from those who might put them behind bars. Others might have family or friends who'd beckoned them north.
Julie surmised the two women in the sled baskets might be mail-order brides. They weren't familiar faces, nor did they appear to be saloon girls. She felt sorry for them as she watched them shivering against the cold. She wondered if they'd ever bear up and become sourdoughs, as those who made it through at least one Alaskan winter were called.